


Done With You

by laschatzi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Swordfighting, Swordplay, when i jab you with my sword, you'll feel it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 19:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laschatzi/pseuds/laschatzi
Summary: During their fight at Lake Nostos, Emma catches a glimpse of Hook's soft side. She asks herself if this is the same man who saved her life during their climb on the beanstalk - or the one who left her to rot in Rumple's cell.





	Done With You

She almost reaches her sword with her fingertips, almost, but then she feels a steely grip at her ankle, and her body is pulled away from the blade, her fingers clawing at the sand in vain.

“No,” she hears Hook growl in an almost mocking tone while he yanks her towards him across the dirt, and she nearly screams in bitter frustration. Determination and anger are obviously not enough to trump God knows how many years of sword fighting experience. She might have bested him easily when he was playing the part of a cowardly blacksmith and she had the element of surprise on her side, but his skills with the sword are in a league of their own, even someone as inexperienced as she can tell that.

Emma manages to turn around on her back, fury and adrenaline giving her the energy, and sees his face is twisted in exertion and anger.

Suddenly, while her ankle's still in his merciless grasp, he surprises her by bending backwards out of the blue and without an apparent reason. He leans back right over the dangerously swirling vortex of the portal, his weight pulling heavily at her leg, and for a moment she fears he'll pull her right with him to fall into that portal and they'd end up God knows where. His body seems to defy gravity – she has never seen any similar move, Keanu Reeves in _Matrix_ doesn't count – until the movement stops and he pulls himself up again with a groan and much effort. Briefly and surprisingly the thought flickers through her mind that he must possess enormous motoric control besides his obvious physical strength.

Then he straightens himself again and lets go of her foot, and Emma quickly throws herself around and scrambles away from him to grasp her sword and jump to her feet again. She whirls around to face him again just in time to see him almost casually toss a leather pouch through the air right into Mulan's hand. The warrior catches it with an open-mouthed, incredulous look, obviously just as stunned as Emma is, when Hook comments nonchalantly, “I may be a pirate, but I bristle at the thought of a woman losing her heart,” he makes a little dramatic pause before he adds, “unless it's over me.”

Aurora's heart!

_She couldn't believe her ears when Hook revealed so nonchalantly that he'd been the one to take it, as a gift for Cora; obviously he'd had done his best to get back in her favor again, disgusting turncoat that he was._

She has less than a second to process what just happened, because he's picked his sword back up already, but one thing is crystal clear: hadn't he performed that crazy, hazardous move to catch that pouch, for whatever reason it's been flying into the vortex of the portal, Aurora's heart would have been lost forever. Not only gave he up a clear advantage he had over Emma in their fight, he even risked his life to save a stranger's heart when there was nothing to gain for him.

A glimpse of weakness? She exchanges a confused look with Mulan but then gives her an encouraging nod and turns to her adversary again. _Well, that's interesting._ Granted, he was the one to steal Aurora's heart in the first place, so he only made up for his previous misdeed, but it's still remarkable that he obviously felt the need to do so. Maybe it's something she can use to her advantage.

“I'd no idea you had such a soft side,” she taunts.

“I don't,” he tosses back snidely, “just like a fair fight.”

And in that moment, she _knows_. She knows that he's lying, just like in Rumple's cell she knew he was telling the truth when he told her that _he_ wouldn't have abandoned her up on the beanstalk.

 _She tried to appeal to his soft side, his better nature there in the cell when he followed after Cora who was walking away with the compass, her chance to get back to Storybrooke, back to Henry, slipping through her fingers. Her mind was racing, and she knew that at the moment, her best chance – no, her_ only _chance – was with him, whether she liked it or not. As much as it was against her nature – if she had to beg, she would do it. There_ had _to be something inside him that wasn't all dead and rotten, she was sure of that... she'd seen it, up there on the beanstalk, even if she'd been too afraid to trust her own instincts. Hell, he'd even saved her life during the climb when he didn't have to, and risked his own life while doing so._

“ _Hook, wait,” she called after him, and he immediately stopped, turning around to face her, his expression not revealing anything, waiting for her to continue, so she did. “Please, don't do this,” she urged, “My son is in Storybrooke. He needs me.”_

_He approached the cell slowly, and when he spoke, she could feel the tension, the barely controlled anger, radiating off of him. “Perhaps you should have considered that before you abandoned me on that beanstalk,” he told her, pointing at her with his ringed index finger, and she was surprised to see something else than anger in his eyes, it almost looked like... hurt?_

_That was ridiculous... he had nerve to play butthurt, he of all people? Hook, the traitor, who'd only sided with them because he'd seen them as his best chance to accomplish his own plan and who'd run back to hide behind Cora's skirts at the first given opportunity? (Of course, at this point, Emma conveniently ignored the fact that she'd been the one to force this opportunity onto him by leaving him behind and at Cora's mercy.)_

_But then again, really? He was a pirate, for fuck's sake. He should have understood._

“ _You would have done the same,” she blurted out impatiently, reverting to her usual tactic of offense being the best defense._

_He took two more long steps and was standing right in front of her now, only the iron bars separating them. His face was as dead serious as his tone when he said with a little head shake, voice low and honest and rough, “Actually, no.”_

_Her superpower kicked in with might, and she had to look away for a moment, her eyes widening in some sort of disbelief when she realized it... that the pirate had been honest with her, and she'd betrayed him._

But she doesn't have the time now to ponder over Captain Hook's soft side, because he's coming at her like a berserk, her whole frame shaking from the sheer force of the impact when his blade makes contact with hers after his crazy body spin.

Their blades cross, and Emma prepares herself for a hazardous duel, but it ends before it truly has begun, because her bent sword arm is pressed between her own body and Hook's blade, and she can't surge forward but doesn't dare to take a step back.

For a few instants, while she's trying to come up with her next move, she stands her ground, and Hook comments, “Good form.” There's almost a trace of grim, genuine appreciation in his rough voice, but then she's surprised by a sharp pain in her right ankle. Before she can even realize that the bastard has kicked up her foot in the air, he's already caught her leg with his hook and raises his eyebrows at her. “But not good enough,” And with a sharp movement, he throws her leg up and sends her flying onto the ground again, her left leg not able to balance it out.

At least this time, she doesn't lose her sword. Desperately, she holds it up with both hands, point directed at him, but it's just a defensive move, and not even an effective one, as she notices. Hook is leaning forward and catches her blade between his hook and his own sword, directing it effortlessly away from him while he bends one knee and sinks down on the sand between her thighs, and the suggestiveness of the situation isn't lost to her. The way his make shift sheath slides smoothly down her blade looks almost obscene, the sound of metal scratching against metal not taking away any of its effect.

She can only furiously watch as her blade is uselessly pointing the air while he inclines even more, hovering over her now, pinning her to the ground. The wind is messing up his hair as he mocks her, his damn eyebrows dancing, “Normally, I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her _back_.” The last word comes out in a drawl, obviously meant to rile her up, make her lose her concentration. _Bastard_. Really, how naïve of him to assume she'd be upset that easily. His dangling necklace almost touches her chest, and damn, if she had a free hand, she could grab it and yank... making him lose balance, throwing him off track somehow, she doesn't know.

“With my life on the line, you've left me no choice,” he continues, and absurdly enough, it sounds like he regrets that, which is completely stupid, because she would _never_... it's ridiculous. “Bit of advice,” he says and leans a little closer still, his expressive eyebrows raising almost to his hairline, the devilish glee evident in his expression _and_ in his voice, “When I jab you with my sword, you'll _feel_ it.”

She doesn't believe her ears at first, but on second thought, she's not surprised, and fury bubbles up within her, fury about his impertinence and smugness. Not for one moment is she afraid of him, because she knows that he wouldn't actually hurt or harm her severely. She's surprised about her own train of thought and quickly retreats to her fury again, the far safer feeling. _When_ , he said, not _if_. Unbelievable. _As if!_ As if she ever allowed herself to be distracted like that, as if throwing blatant innuendos at her would impress her in any way or catch her attention, as if... before she can even realize that his tactics are indeed starting to work and distract her _just fine_ , she snaps out of her whirling thoughts when she feels something rigid pressing into her back.

“ _You know what this is, Emma?” he asked cockily, his smug, arrogant mask up again and firmly in place now. The moment of honesty, almost such a thing as vulnerability, when there had been a chance to get through to him, had gone by._

_She looked at the object dangling from his hand on a silver chain._

“ _The bean that the giant kept!” She gasped when she recognized it and, in a quick move, tried to grab it, but Hook was faster, snatching it out of her reach._

Her right hand lets go of her useless sword and fumbles half underneath herself, her fingertips finding a metal object in the sand. Hook doesn't notice, he's obviously too absorbed in his supposed victory when he suggests, “You might wanna quit.”

“Why would I do that,” Emma retorts a little breathlessly and raises her hand, showing him the compass clasped between her fingers, “When I'm winning?”

“ _Uh, uh, uh,” he mocked her, “Yes, indeed.” He was obviously savoring his victory or, more, as she supposed, the opportunity to pay her back for her betrayal. “A pirate always keeps a souvenir of his conquests,” he told her nonchalantly, “but this... this is much more than a mere trinket. This is a symbol.” Emma had no idea what he was aiming at, and she was frantically trying to come up with something she could say to him to make him change his mind, but her brain was blank._

His face falls, and now it's her turn to be self-satisfied. She feels the steely tension of his controlled muscles falter for the tiniest bit, him being momentarily distracted by this turn of events, and that's all she needs. Somehow, she manages to bring up her knees between them and pushes with all her might, and suddenly he stumbles backwards, giving her space to scramble to her feet, the compass clasped in her right hand, her sword in her left.

He tries to amend his mistake and attacks her again immediately with an angry growl, but she's prepared and manages to block his strike and push his sword out of the way, holding it down a bit. Obviously, his finesse is impaired a bit. Emma curls her fingers into a fist around the compass and huffs, “Thanks!”, before she swings her fist up in a right hook against his scruffy chin – pun so much intended – that sends him to the ground without a further sound, knocked out flat.

“ _Something that was once magical,” he went on, “full of hope, possibility... now look at it: dried up, dead, useless...” his oddly sensual voice dropped to a husky whisper full of nonchalant villainy as he leaned forward almost intimately, “much like you.” His words hurt, and even if she understood his anger, she couldn't believe this man – cunning, selfish, gleefully sinister – was the same man as the somewhat undeniably charming rogue that had climbed the beanstalk with her and saved her life. He had confirmed now what she'd instinctively known already when she'd chained him atop the beanstalk: that he wouldn't have betrayed and abandoned her then. But now... now it looked like he was about to do exactly that. It seemed like he had nothing more to say to her, because he started to retreat, put physical distance between them as he declared, “The time for making deals is done, just as I am done...” he pointed at her in a final, almost dismissive gesture that didn't hold the slightest hint of regret, “with you.”_

For a fleeting moment the thought crosses her mind that it could have gone differently, if he hadn't betrayed them by stealing Aurora's heart and helping Cora to trap them in Rumple's cell, leaving them to rot. _Of course,_ that inconvenient little voice at the back of her head whispers, _things could also have gone differently if you hadn't betrayed him first by abandoning him atop the beanstalk..._ But then again – what difference does it make? They're through, and in a few moments, if everything goes well, she'll have Henry back and can start to figure out how to be a mother, a daughter... and she'll forget about the pirate, she'll never see him again anyway. How had he said? _I am done with you._ Well, so is she.

Without wasting another glance back at his motionless body on the sand, she clenches the compass in her hand and calls out to Mary Margaret, “Now let's go home!”

  
  


  
  


 


End file.
